Revised sonnet #96
I stumbled onto scrap of early chant
Arrear a desk in midst of moving house
It lacked a spirit mere emotive rant
Against imaginary sordid spouse
I noticed stab at sarcasm stood as nous
The syllable and stress in numbers off
The lean to lengths of line your whim allows
In rays of day it might accept a scoff
The pose of poet I had to drop or doff
Id roll up sleeves and handle inky muck
Id quit to versify old pride Id quaff
I had to retool call on Lady Luck
And now that words are seen as solid stuff
I build the stanzas beautiful enough
Chorus stuff gear kit
